Petrified!
by Inspirement
Summary: What if you were still conscious after being petrified by the Basilisk?


**Petrified!**

_Summary:__  
><em>_What if you were still conscious after being petrified by the Basilisk?_

_Disclaimer:__  
><em>_This story is written by a fan, for the fans. I make no profit from this story and I am totally fine with that. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and I make no claims of ownership regarding him or any other characters, situations, locations or plot points that are part of the Harry Potter universe._

_I do however claim ownership of any original characters, situations, locations or plot points that are __NOT__ part of the Harry Potter universe._

_Rating:__  
><em>_PG-13_

_A/N:__  
><em>_This is probably the one that has been unfinished the longest. I wrote the beginning, shelved it, brought it back, rewrote half of it, shelved it again, wrote the second half, abandoned it, took it back, looked it over, added a paragraph, killed it, buried it, and then finally today, I resurrected it and finished it. I hope you enjoy it._

• • •

Hermione was terrified!

Something was wrong; very, _very_ wrong.

The last thing she remembered was rushing from the library to tell Ron and Harry that she had found out what the monster in the chamber was.

When she met Penelope Clearwater just outside the library doors, she quickly decided that two was better than one. She told Penelope about her discovery and advised her to be careful. Penelope had quickly pulled out a mirror out of her bag, and together, they had used it to look around corners.

Then... nothing.

Her first reason to believe that something was not right was simple: she wasn't breathing; and there was only one logical way to explain this. She was dead. How couldn't she be? She wasn't breathing, she could barely see, she had no muscle control; she couldn't even feel her heart beating anymore!

A sudden wave of despair washed over her. What would her parents say? They would be crushed! And her friends...

She wanted to cry, but of course, she couldn't. Her stomach wanted to turn over and her face wanted to distort in anguish... nothing happened. It was only her and her thoughts. No breathing, no heartbeats, no scents, no hunger, and only the barest amount of touch and hearing; and all she could really tell from those vague sensory inputs was that she was lying on her back on something soft, presumably a bed. These senses were so much in the background though that if she didn't pay particular attention to them, they might as well not be there at all. She guessed that they would disappear too as time went on.

The best way she could describe the feeling was that it was like falling, only without the rush of air roaring in her ears and tearing at her clothes. Under different circumstances, it would be quite relaxing.

She wondered what would happen now. Would she stay like this? Forever? Would she be alone with her thoughts as her body slowly decayed in a coffin somewhere? What if it was decided that she was to be cremated? Would it hurt? She felt the beginning of another panic attack. She didn't want to be dead! She wanted to live! There was so much left to do! So much to see and to experience; she wasn't ready to die! She was only thirteen years old for Merlin's sake!

_If this is what awaits after death, I'd rather be a ghost,_ she thought.

But then something happened.

She heard footsteps in the corridor outside, followed by professor McGonagall's voice speaking in a gentle tone.

"This will be a bit of a shock."

The steps stopped, and McGonagall continued.

"There has been another attack... another _double_ attack."

Oh no. Penelope, Hermione thought. Suddenly her heart leapt as she heard Ron's voice saying her name.

"Hermione!"

She listened as McGonagall explained how she and Penelope were found near the library and then asked if anybody knew why the mirror was found next to them, but something was not right. The boys were entirely too calm. If any of _them_ had died... no, she didn't want to think about that. Nevertheless, she would have done more than simply stand there?

As McGonagall kept explaining the situation, Hermione wanted to scream and shout that there was a basilisk in the chamber of secrets, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn't move a muscle, much less say anything. She groaned inwardly as McGonagall said she would take them back to Gryffindor tower.

"Again, I'm sorry. But I have high hopes she will be back among us before long," McGonagall said.

She listened as three pair of feet moved away from her bed and out the door. She wished that they could have stayed a little longer. If she could, she knew she would have cried...

Then McGonagall's parting words sank into her. _Be back among them?_ What did that mean?

A wave of understanding washed over her and, for a girl being known as the brightest witch of her age, Hermione felt incredibly stupid. Of course! The mirror! She had looked through the mirror! She wasn't dead, she was petrified! She would survive!

An enormous relief filled her and all anguish and dread was washed away

• • •

As time dragged on, Hermione grew restless. She wished that she could fall asleep, but no, she didn't feel sleepy no matter how long she lay there. She was getting frustrated; she couldn't even pass the time with reading, but most of all, she missed her best friends.

Judging by the darkness of the blur before her eyes, she could tell that several hours had passed since Harry and Ron's brief visit. She hoped that they would come back soon, it was getting seriously lonely with nothing to do than listen to faint sounds of the night and keeping conversations with herself in her head.

_I seriously need something to do,_ she thought; But what? She thought of her books and decided she could perhaps quiz herself on some homework.

She began to make mental lists of arithmancy problems and then proceeded to solve them. She made up questions on spell usage and proceeded to answer them, but she soon stopped. It wasn't as fun to do homework if you already knew the answers. What she really wanted to do was research, but without the ability to use her body, that was practically impossible. How could she read a book if she couldn't hold it, let alone see it?

Her whole body was locked in position. She realized that even the lenses in her eyes were fixed. That's why her vision was blurry.

Suddenly, she heard a creak as the door opened. _Who could be visiting at this hour?_ she wondered.

The person moved quietly across the floor, but with her heavily reduced hearing it was difficult to follow the progress. Therefore it was quite the shock for her when there was a crash next to her and a scream of pain. She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed too. She had secretly wished that it was Ron or Harry. She was desperate for some company, but judging from the voice now cursing, probably over a stubbed foot, it was neither. Whoever it was, were probably around sixth year, though possibly older.

The man eventually calmed down. For it was definitely a man. Of that much she was sure. What she wondered most was why he was there? She already had several theories.

First off, unless there had been any developments she was unaware of, there were currently four people in the hospital wing, all of them petrified. First there was Colin Creevey, first year male. Then there were Justin, second year male. Lastly, there were herself, second year female, and Penelope, Sixth year female.

This made it clear to Hermione that if he were there to see someone, it was most likely Penelope. Possibly a boyfriend, or a very concerned friend.

She could hear a whispered monologue coming from her right, but couldn't make out any words. The occasional sound of kisses made the _boyfriend theory_ seem like the most likely one.

The thought of someone caring enough about Penelope to risk sneaking into the hospital wing at night to be with her made Hermione feel so much lonelier. She longed for Ron... or Harry for that matter, to come and visit her.

• • •

After a while, everything began to float together. She was bored out of her mind, but there was nothing she could do about it. Some days, Harry and Ron would come and visit, but not every day. Some days, all the entertainment she got was listening to Madam Pomfrey healing minor injuries or reversing hexes and curses from students who had been fighting.

The worst time though, was the night. She spent all her nights sleepless, most nights listening to Penelope's boyfriend keeping up his monologue, oblivious to the fact that Penelope could probably hear him.

That's why, one night approximately a week after she had been petrified, she didn't react when the door opened and closed softly, but instead of the soft padding of stockinged feet that she expected, there the nervous clicks of someone trying to walk noiselessly with shoes echoing through the room.

The steps moved closer to her, but Hermione still didn't dare to hope. Who would care to visit _her_ anyway? The only positive thing she could say about herself was that she had brains, and unless you were talking to a Ravenclaw, nobody cared about that. On top of that, her hair was unmanageable, her front teeth were enormous and she didn't even have the tiniest hint of a chest.

The steps stopped just beside her and she could hear a chair scraping across the floor. _Could it be?_ The chair creaked as someone sat down in it and then, for the first time in about three days, she felt someone gently grip her arm.

She clung to the feeling like a man in a desert might cling to a bottle of water. She heard a soft sniff from directly beside her right ear, followed by a long intake and exhale of breath.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said, and her heart both leapt and constricted at the same time. _It was Ron._

"I should never have let you run off on your own. I mean, we all knew that there was something out there attacking Muggle-borns, and I should never have let you go alone."

He paused again and she could hear more sniffs. _Was he crying?_

After a couple of minutes, Ron seemed to calm down and he continued talking.

"They said that it's no use talking to a petrified person, but I had to come here. I need to tell you something... actually, I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I couldn't when Harry was around. I haven't been able to sleep for a week either, so I finally borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and went down here..." he stopped abruptly in the middle of the sentence.

Hermione could almost feel his hesitation, or perhaps that was his hand on her arm, which was now trembling slightly. She wondered what he was going to tell her. She was starting to get a little afraid. If he was this nervous about saying it, it would surely be really bad.

"Well, you see, Hermione," he faltered, "I just want to say this to you, I know that you won't hear me, and perhaps that's for the best, but if I tell you this now at least I'll get it off my chest for now, so here goes. Hermione, I've thought about you recently... quite a lot... a bit more than I should do I think. The thing is, I don't know if... actually, I don't know what I'm trying to say at all; it's all so confusing. I know I like you, but there's something more too that I can't explain. When I look at you, I get this kind of happy feeling inside. I know we've had our fair share of arguments, and I won't deny that you irritate the hell out of me sometimes, but... yeah, you're one of my best friends, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."

Hermione was in a state of numb shock. Some of those things she already knew or at least had guessed; but there was something about hearing it coming from his mouth that made it so much more real... and his confession of... whatever it was... did he really feel that way? He must be, because he had no reason whatsoever to lie to her. As a matter of fact, he didn't even know she could hear him.

On the other hand, she would lie to herself if she said that she hadn't thought about Ron a bit more than was strictly necessary the last few days. At times, she had even hoped that he would do something stupid and get himself hurt just so she could hear his voice. Not too hurt mind you, just enough to get sent to the hospital wing.

_But he is here now,_ she thought. _He is here now._

She felt his hand shift a little and became suddenly afraid that he would go away, but moments later, she felt a pressure on her cheek and a rush of air spreading over the side of her face.

The kiss lasted a long time, much longer than she expected. It was possibly four full seconds before he withdrew and sat back down on the chair. If she could blush, she probably would, and she would bet that Ron actually was blushing right now, but all she could feel was contentedness.

Ron stayed with her for a few hours, but he didn't say anything more. He caressed her arm and sometimes her face, and Hermione just revelled in the feelings his touch created in her. If this went on, she just might make it through this without going insane.

• • •

As the weeks went by, this became sort of a ritual. Harry and Ron wouldn't always visit her during the day – actually, most days they didn't – but she could always count on Ron to spend time with her during the night, often falling asleep by her bed, his head resting on her shoulder. She found that she didn't mind.

Another interesting thing – which she actually found out the second night Ron stayed with her – was that the mystery man who had been visiting Penelope Clearwater actually was Percy Weasley. Apparently, they really were a couple, and Percy and Ron made an agreement not to tell anyone that the other one was visiting a girl in the hospital wing at night.

Hermione didn't really keep track of the time any more, she just knew that it had been a very, _very_ long time when she felt Madam Pomfrey pull her lips apart and pour something extremely vile tasting through her teeth. Apparently, of all the senses to work with full capacity, taste had to be the one. Seconds later, everything went black.

• • •

Hermione was terrified!

Something was wrong; very, _very_ wrong.

The last thing she remembered was rushing from the library to tell Ron and Harry that she had found out what the monster in the chamber was.

When she met Penelope Clearwater just outside the library doors, she quickly decided that two was better than one. She had told Penelope about her discovery and advised her to be careful. Penelope had quickly pulled out a mirror out of her bag, and together, they had used it to look around corners.

Then... nothing.

From what she could tell, she was lying on a bed in the hospital wing, but how she had gotten there, she had no idea.

"What happened?" she asked Madam Pomfrey, who was standing bent over a patient on the next bed.

"You were petrified by the Basilisk," she said simply. "How are you feeling?"

_The Basilisk? _she thought. _That means they made it! They found out what the monster is!_ Hermione sat up quickly and stretched her arms and legs. They felt heavy, as if the muscles hadn't been used for a while, but otherwise perfectly normal.

"I'm fine," she said.

"That's good," Madam Pomfrey answered. "I released Colin Creevey just a couple of minutes ago, and if there is nothing wrong, I suggest you join him at the end of term feast."

Hermione was momentarily shocked by this statement. _The term is already over?_ But she collected herself, nodded to the matron and went out of the hospital wing.

Halfway towards the Great Hall, she started running, and she didn't stop until she reached the doors, which were wide open. The hall was packed with students, all in their pyjamas, but she immediately located Harry and Ron in their usual places. Without missing a beat, she ran towards them, yelling, "You solved it! You solved it!" hugging them both as she reached them. Ron gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and blushed. Hermione thought it felt somewhat familiar; perhaps she had dreamt it.


End file.
